


Two Truths

by sapphose



Series: The Game Is Afoot [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, just the two of them flirting in their own unique way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: Julian introduces Garak to the human game "two truths and a lie."
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: The Game Is Afoot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838269
Comments: 39
Kudos: 210





	Two Truths

“…And then of the three statements, you have to guess which one I made up.” Julian took a moment to swallow, for which Garak silently gave thanks. Far too much of the explanation had been given while chewing some kind of maliciously crunchy salad. “For example, if I said my middle name is Subatoi, I performed my first surgery at age five, and I’ve participated in a Bajoran springball championship, which would you think is the lie?”

Garak already knew Julian’s middle name, having thoroughly read all the personnel files before the crew came aboard. He didn’t intend to admit it, because Starfleet was more likely to blame him for prying than take the logical step of strengthening their own security protocols, but he could dismiss that option out of hand. Springball seemed likely enough, given the doctor’s obsession with tennis, which Garak understood to be fairly similar.

“The surgery, obviously,” he identified confidently. “You could hardly have obtained your medical license that early.”

Julian grinned.

“Wrong! I performed surgery on my teddy bear.”

Garak wondered which was incorrect: his Federation Standard, or his understanding of normal human development.

“That seems dangerous for a five year old. Aren’t bears rather large?” If memory served, they also had teeth and claws that couldn’t have made the encounter any safer.

“ _Teddy_ bear, Garak,” Julian emphasized. “It’s a stuffed toy. His leg came off and his stuffing was spilling out, so I stitched him back together.”

By that logic, Garak performed surgery almost every day, but he was still proud of Julian for the attempt at obfuscation. It was never too late to learn to lie.

“That doesn’t count as a medical operation.”

“Why not? It’s the same thing I do to humanoid patients.”

Garak grimaced dramatically, although inside he glowed with the pleasure of having something to argue about.

“I hope you don’t refer to their insides as ‘spilling out.’ It’s a rather unpleasant image.”

“No, I don’t. But you have to admit I tricked you.” Julian took a satisfied slurp of his plomeek soup. Garak wondered, not for the first time, how such a beautiful man could have such atrocious table manners.

“I admit nothing of the kind. In fact, I believe this is all a rather transparent ploy to get some kind of sordid confession about my past.”

“I promise, it’s a real earth game. You can look it up.”

Garak hoped it wasn’t, partly because it would remove whatever last hope he held for the species, and partly because he wanted to believe that he aroused Julian to the point of deviousness. (Whether he aroused intellectual curiosity in that intelligent brain or a more physical response in a lower region, Garak didn’t mind, as long as some part of the doctor’s anatomy was focused on him.)

“How typical for humans, to have a game based around honesty.”

“But that’s the fun of it! You have to tell the truth so that it sounds like a lie, and lie so that it sounds like the truth. I think you’ll be very good at it.”

Garak put on his best innocent, _why does everyone think I lie?_ face.

“I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted, Doctor.”

“You can feel however you like, but it’s your turn.”

“Very well.” Garak let the silence stretch out as he deliberated. He had his own ongoing game every time they ate lunch, of saying outrageous things for the joy of watching Julian react. “I enjoy rokassa juice in the morning… I have a knack for growing orchids… I single-handedly assassinated Proconsul Merrok.”

Julian froze for a moment, wide eyes fixed on Garak’s face, spoon full of soup forgotten in his hands. Garak savored the feeling of that undivided attention, and smiled pleasantly.

That seemed to wake Julian up. He placed his spoon in the bowl and carefully smiled back.

Garak watched with pride. Although Julian was still too hopelessly expressive for his own good, his facial control was improving.

“Well, I know you drink rokassa juice,” Julian began. “I have to smell it often enough.”

“Yes, and isn’t it stimulating?” Rokassa juice had nothing on the acrid scent of the raktajinos that most of the senior staff enjoyed.

Julian wrinkled his nose.

“That’s one word for it. Anyway, I’ve made up my mind. I think you don’t grow orchids.”

Cardassians didn’t have eyebrows, but Garak had found that raising his eye ridges had the same overall effect.

“Really, Doctor?”

“Humor me.”

This was one of Julian’s most fascinating qualities- the young man actually _want_ _ed_ his lunch companion to be an assassin.

During his time in the Obsidian Order, Garak did not consider his job glamorous or appealing. It was his work, and he did it well. It was only in exile that he began to take pride in what he had done, his brain clinging to the nostalgic fantasy: _I was important, once_. It never succeeded in making him feel better, of course. It only ever served to emphasize how far he had fallen.

Seeing Julian watch him ravenously, ready to devour tales about his past or chew on a new discovery, reminded Garak what it felt like to be a person that mattered.

“Obviously I was not involved in that unfortunate death.”

“Obviously,” Julian repeated doubtfully. “Knowing you, you’re relying on some kind of loophole. Maybe you did kill him, but you had an accomplice.”

 _Very good, Doctor_. No assassination could really be carried out alone.

“A Romulan spy, I suppose?”

“Something like that.”

Garak allowed himself a drink, a pause to let the implied question hang in the air.

“You do have quite an active imagination,” he finally commented, giving away nothing.

“And _you_ have a very good poker face.”

Familiar with the idiom, Garak accepted the compliment with a gracious nod.

“Yours is improving. Is the game over now?”

“It goes on as long as we want it to.”

That was a lie, although an unintentional one. Regardless of topic, the lunchtime conversation never went on as long as Garak wanted. Inevitably, another friend or a medical emergency or some other reminder of the real world would intrude and take Julian away.

Garak pushed that thought aside.

“Then I believe it’s your turn.”

“All right.” Julian rubbed his hands together in anticipation, another painfully obvious emotional tell. “Iloja of Prim is one of my favorite Cardassian authors. You are one of my favorite Cardassian authors. Korem Unar is one of my favorite Cardassian authors.”

“I am not an author, Doctor,” Garak objected.

“I disagree. You make up very entertaining stories.”

Milla despaired that Garak was deceitful. Tain designed him to lie. Had anyone ever just enjoyed listening to his stories?

A dangerous line of inquiry.

“I think I preferred when you were accusing me of murder. Now you’re insulting me and the greatest master of the repetitive epic.”

“Unar’s dead. I doubt she minds very much.”

Garak leaned in.

“ _I_ mind. Obviously the lie is that you enjoy her work, because you have terrible taste and have proven yourself incapable of properly appreciating _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_.”

Across the table, Julian mirrored Garak’s posture. Their knees touched, and Garak felt a jolt that was definitely not static electricity.

“I think you secretly like that about me. Our conversations would be very boring otherwise.”

Garak had not yet figured out whether Julian knew what Cardassian flirting looked like and was engaging in purposefully, was attempting to flirt in a human way that just happened to align with the cultural norm, or wasn’t flirting at all but was instead just painfully oblivious.

Regardless of the reason, Garak was determined to enjoy it, although he decided that more than enough truth-telling had occurred for one afternoon.

“One, I wish you were better capable of understanding Cardassian literature. Two, I make a delicious hasperat. Three, I am, in fact, a published author.”

It was really a half-truth and two lies, but Julian’s open face betrayed no spark of realization.

“What did you publish?”

Garak considered inventing an erotic spy thriller of the kind that Julian so eagerly devoured, but ultimately went for the subtle touch.

“A series of enigma tales. Anonymously, of course.”

“Hmm…” Julian stirred his soup thoughtfully, scraping the stem of the spoon along the rim of the bowl. “I hope the lie is that you can cook. Otherwise I’d like to know what we’ve been doing in the replimat all this time when we could have been eating fresh hasperat.”

Garak wondered how long it would take to learn to cook the spicy dish. He could hack the Bajoran computer files to find a recipe.

“That’s a very selfish line of reasoning.”

“Am I right?”

It would probably take long enough to master that he shouldn’t claim it now. Better to surprise the doctor later.

“You said that the other player is required to guess. You never said I was required to disclose whether or not you are correct.”

Julian let go of his spoon with an indignant clatter.

“That’s the whole point of the game! You have to reveal which one was the lie.”

Garak did not point out that one could simply lie about lying (as he often did). Instead, he contented himself with the remark, “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? It’s curious that you continue to add rules to this game you insist you didn’t invent.”

“It _is_ a real game,” Julian huffed. “I just haven’t played in a while.”

“Your turn, I believe. Unless you’d like to quit.”

Steely resolve flashed in the doctor’s eyes.

“I don’t give up.”

“Is that one of your statements?”

“No. _One_ , I have read exactly sixteen enigma tales.”

 _Lie,_ Garak thought, and raised an eye ridge.

“I’ve only lent you five.”

“I know. _Two_ , I have, at your insistence, tried kanar, larish pie, zabu stew, rokassa juice-”

 _Truth_.

“I am aware of the Cardassian cuisine you have tried, Doctor. You know how I appreciate your open mind.”

Julian barreled on.

“ _Three_ , I think you could stand to tell me the truth more often.”

 _Truth_.

Garak understood immediately. Julian wasn’t playing to win this round; he was instead trying to make his evasive friend feel guilty.

“The lie is how many enigma tales you’ve read.”

“Correct. I’ve read twenty-two.”

Garak blinked in surprise.

“I thought you couldn’t stand them.”

“I can’t,” Julian confirmed. “Your turn.”

What an intriguing turn of events. Why would a man read dozens of works in a genre he despised? Either to have something to argue about, or to better understand Cardassian culture.

Both were delightful options to contemplate.

Garak had always thought of himself as being immune to flattery. Compliments were some of the easiest lies to tell. But sincere interest, it turned out, made him positively weak.

Weakness made him honest.

“I grew up in the capital city on Cardassia Prime… I once had a pet regnar… I’m the one who sabotaged Quark’s replicator last week.”

This was a very dangerous game, Garak realized. Not two truths and a lie itself (that was facile and idiotic), but flirting with the Federation doctor. Memories of gardens and moonlight and a life lived far away and long ago were bubbling up inside him, begging to be given voice.

 _A disciplined mind is the greatest weapon_ , Garak reminded himself, and tried to pretend he had been born on Deep Space 9 on the Day of Withdrawal. Nothing before then could be allowed to pass his lips.

Julian was still thinking.

“Tell me what a regnar is.”

Here, at least, there was no need to lie.

“A small lizard that lives in the desert.”

“Doesn’t seem like a likely pet.”

“It wasn’t,” Garak responded, allotting himself one moment to remember sandy scales and bright, curious eyes. It had been his only companion, once.

“Then I think that’s the lie.”

Garak met Julian’s eyes with a sigh of fond exasperation.

“Why would I sabotage Quark’s replicators?”

“I don’t know. But I know you could if you wanted to.”

“What would a simple tailor know about programming?” Garak lied automatically, relishing Julian’s resulting eye roll.

“You repaired the computer system at that Bajoran orphanage. You almost shut down the entire station’s defense system when we triggered the automatic revolt response. Don’t tell me someone just _happened_ to tell you how to do all that while you were taking their measurements.”

Garak couldn’t resist. He gave a lascivious smile and dropped his tone to a purr.

“You’d be surprised what people admit when their clothes are off.”

Julian started to cough and had to calm himself with a sip of tea, while Garak reveled in the fact that humans blushed.

“So, um, which one was the lie?” the flushed human asked, and cleared his throat again.

“The replicators. You always seem to assume the worst of me, Doctor.”

“You always tell me to,” Julian replied fondly, then glanced at the chronometer with a sigh. “We’ve got time for one more round before my shift starts. I’ll make it a hard one for you.”

As always, their time together had been too short. Garak slipped his bitterness and longing beneath a veneer of patronizing indulgence.

“I’m sure you’ll try.”

Julian propped his elbows up on the table and rested his chin on his hands.

“I was once engaged to be married. I knew two languages by the time I was six. I think you should meet me in Quark’s for a new secret agent holonovel at 2100 this evening.”

Garak’s heart stuttered for a moment, before he remembered the shore leave roster.

“Chief O’Brien must still be on vacation,” he observed.

“Oh, come on. That’s not the only reason I might invite you to Quark’s.”

Garak may have been weak, but he was not an idiot. Julian was only inviting him because Quark didn’t issue refunds on reserved holosuite time.

“If this program is anything like the last one, perhaps you just want to shoot me again.”

Julian snorted, which would have been a very unbecoming sound from anyone else, but which he somehow managed to make charming.

“Are you going to guess or not?”

The invitation was most likely a truth, because to lie about it would be cruel. Julian was many things (naive, obvious, occasionally misguided), but he was never cruel.

Garak hoped the lie was the betrothal, but wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know.

“Very well. I’m sure you knew three or four languages by the time you were six.”

Garak watched in helpless amazement as a grinning Julian stood, walked behind him, and placed long, gentle hands on his shoulders, just as Garak had done four years ago, when they first met.

“Well, you’ll just have to come to Quark’s tonight and find out if you’re right,” a low voice murmured in Garak’s ear.

There could be no doubt; Julian was definitely flirting back.

_Two can play at that game, my dear Doctor._

“We’ll see,” Garak said simply.

 _Your move_.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of "The Never-Ending Sacrifice" is never given in canon, so I created a name based on Una McCormack, who wrote the real-world novel of that title.
> 
> I realized there are multiple games about telling the truth (this, never have I ever, truth or dare, etc.) and maybe will make a series of them, if that's something people would like to read?


End file.
